Consider this little person, a casual caregiver at best, with her bottle of beer and her baby splayed, arms outstretched, in the grass.
She LIKED the baby well enough. She just didn’t really know how to care for her.
Her grandfather David and I didn’t know how to care for her mother at first either: we read her to sleep on a waterbed in the basement of our friend’s house by the sea.
In Coastal Maine.
In late August.
And the waterbed, it turned out, wasn’t even heated – so when we came back downstairs many rollicking hours later, having played rounds of Botticelli til we were blue in the face, we found our child seemingly blue in the face herself – or so we at first thought when we touched her and felt her cool, cool skin.
People almost shouldn’t be allowed to have babies until they’re like 40.
Only six months later, this little person is still only one year old and already she has grown in the nurturing arts, as you can plainly see.
Moral of the story? Love a little person hard and s/he will learn to do the same.